The seasons draped that noxious cold down below, making her warmer than she’d been in quite some time while in the sky. She generally headed in the direction of the ring’s pull, but avoided darker clouds or took the sky higher when they were unavoidable; the air thinned and it was a little harder to breath, so she wouldn’t last up there for too long -and, surprisingly, it would grow too hot for her. Still, she traveled as the ring grew in strength towards the ultimate destination, a thing of eaten memories.
It was incremental, small that she might not have noticed. It was there, it now would lightly lift her finger if she held it limp. She grew nearer; it seemed exponential in its growth. The land below her opened to cracks like her aura, desert sands blowing across them and filling some. The scarred land was not completely without life as, curiously, there were bunches of trees growing more fervently than ever she’d seen. They trailed the paths of sand, shrubs , grasses, and budding trees spiking from the ground like a baby bird’s first feathers, only to trail back to an adult’s full plumage. The trees were not tall, but they were wide and even hung on to their leaves under snow. She was not used to snow, only happening every few years from where she was born. She knew it would be dreadful to traverse, when she inevitably had to come down to land.
Those in Tukk must have guided her as she espied one: a town sprouted in the distance. It was so alone, a rural place without farm, nestled into one of the chasms, smoke the signifier of that life before she could see down. Her wings and stomach ached at the sight, having a mind of their own and begging her to ease their pain at that place. It would be far better than hunting in the snow. And, if she were lucky, she might be able to sleep near some heated vent or at least under an awning out of threatening snowfall. Involuntary shivers rolled over her at the thought of being caught out in a snowfall.
Nearing the town, she dove into the trees, careful to sense any intelligent auras around. She stepped bare-food on the cold ground, snow recently melted and made the ground slushy and frigid. It was not much of a bother due to her callouses, but it was still uncomfortable, as the muck was gritted with sand, wearing her down in too many ways. The ramp down glistened with wet, but constant sweeping and the movement of bodies removed windswept sand. She strode hidden in her cloak and mask. She supposed she would need to keep better care of this mask, there would not likely be any shops she could ‘procure’ a new one from.
When in a mask, she could easily observe any and all within the confines of the slit holes. When without a mask, she had to avert eye contact, a base instinct predators and prey had to keep them alive. The mask afforded her this information she otherwise would have to forgo and assume. She could see who was looking at her, see where people had their attention. All five people she passed, two in a carriage and three walking, eyed her with deep, curious disgust.
She let that be an omen to her, she should be careful when entering this town. They must not get many strangers.
Those, however, were just the humi. The carriage was driven by the two, but pulled by ten solumkerd. It seemed like a lot for a little carriage, the person inside must have been quite wealthy to hire so many to pull. But why solumkerd, why not beast of burden like ghrepul or horses? And their look, they seemed just as dumb as those animals, blank expressions like there wasn’t a thought in their head.
Ominous was not quite the right word. No, it would work, the turning of her stomach would be that missing language.
Yaro stepped carefully down the slope, not daring to expose her hand to hold onto the railing. The air became thick and dark as she reached the town. Small blue fires illuminated key areas and refracted sayk-light bounced on the green cavern walls. The combination of colors cast everything in a sickly glow.
Coming into the town proper, it was more lively than from first impressions. A humi child ran past her chasing a ball while a gaggle of other humi called to them in a foreign tongue. A couple sat at a table outside what looked to be a service building, playing maruzjat with one intense and the other confident. A blacksmith hammered somewhere in the distance and the smell of, actually very little, came to her. She hoped that when she made it to the tavern, there would be at least one person there who spoke common lald. The breathiessness around her felt like everyone was trying to blow something down rather than communicate.
As she padded along, careful to not let her claws tack on the stone road, that unease crept up her like a vine on a tree, slowly choking her until death. Something was wrong, she just couldn’t put her claw on it. Every town was different, of course, but this one didn’t seem to have anything exceptional beyond a few dirty glances, which was not atypical either. No, that feeling she trusted, telling her to be more than wary, it said there was something more than some yokels ready to kick her out, more than a protector force on high alert from a crime-ridden place, more than a town strangely quiet.
An inn, like all inns, was placed near the entry into the town, welcoming wayfarers for coin without allowing them proper entrance to where they may or may not be welcome. For travelers, it’s a relief to see a respite easily accessed. Mutually, it generates revenue for any small town while keeping foreign interaction at a minimum.
Yaro passed a gorgon tied to a post with a collar and rope. It sat there without a word, some rich person must be keeping at as a pet. Yaro felt pity for it, but not enough to go near it, who knows if they did a good job removing all of its venom glands.
The town stood on stone bases, all buildings having their doors a leg’s length above the ground, removable and stone staircases leading up to them, meant for humi feet. She ascended one of these wooden staircases and opened a wooden door of all things, handle included, to a murmur of a joint information center and restaurant, not a quiet foyer as she’d expected. It assuredly was an inn, the sign of a bowl with a language she couldn’t read large, imposing, and welcoming. If it were just a restaurant, that would have to suffice, as this area seemed to be more of a place one drank than fed. She never would stay long.
The air lost its thickness, becoming arid with spices and astringent things Yaro could not place to be for consuming or cleaning. There was a spattering of people across the tables, none holding more than four and none above a polite rumble. Seated near every table were non-humi all looking dumb and waiting. She swallowed and made her way to an empty table.
Before she would get up again, she had to observe the area, find who best to approach. She glanced from table to table, sure they would not make eye contact from beyond the mask. She did like to look with impunity. She noticed a few dirty glances, but none more than average directed towards here. Everyone held conversations in little bubbles of people they knew, either leaning back and gently gesturing or patting someone on the back. Everyone seemed happy, a majority of those sitting with a drink in hand. A tavern, it was.
The predominantly solumkerd non-humi around the tables, sitting nearby but not partaking in the conversations, all had that same sickening aura to them. No, it wasn’t that. They… had no aura? Everyone in the tavern glowed some kind of yellow to orange and some blue. All those were the humi. The solumkerd, gorgons, spattering of tiny wyvern all were --she tried to focus, to better understand-- not quite there. They were there, she could sense their presence. But it wasn’t right, like they didn’t have color, like they didn’t have motion.They way they sat rigid and lips shut, they might not have had emotion. Yaro had to find her information quickly and leave. Her gut told her not to wait.
The people closest to her, two tables away, had that same blandness about them as the whole town. No one wore anything beyond strings and robes. No horns, feathers, or even robes of hide, just cloth and muted colors. Not even tattoos ran down any part of grey skin. They spoke the breathy language, the room filled with gasps that had her wanting to yawn. She felt at her horns with an ethereal hand, pulling them in a way that her head tilted slightly.
A humi, male and with darkened spots of either age or bruises, Yaro couldn’t tell, stood, staring directly at her. He smiled, nodded to the humi he had previously been chatting with, and took a leisurely stroll towards her. Her palms warmed. She should have been the one to approach, the other way around typically leads to disaster.
XX Word XX => translate to Thoos
He wore a simple robe of average quality, a few stains from a day of work. Yaro ducked her head, conscious despite the mask. He said, “XX Haven’t seen you around here.XX.”
She could vaguely make out what could be some corollary words. blow. See. Hazarding a guess, she shook her head from side to side. It was either a gesture of dissent or of relaxation, she hoped the former.
His smile fell slightly. Yaro saw something that could have been a glance back at his compatriot, or a look away to ease some tension that they felt. Either way, Yaro let the world fall away, to completely take in this man, to get as much information out of him when he spoke next to make the best call she could. “XX I didn’t think so. I don’t know about the city, but your attire sure is strange. Tell me where you’re from XX.”
Each breathy lip flap was as opaque as the last. She didn’t get even a particle of a word, let alone a gesture for what could have been said. What she did find was the purpose. Maybe. It confused her. He tilted his head slightly to the side, body relaxed, a gesture normally meant for questions, an opening to get a better look or hearing of something and a body disarming to allow for truth. Yet, there was no punctuation at the end, no vocal lilt or difference in what was said before to indicate that question. She wasn’t familiar with thoos, but she knew of it, that it was one of the three primary languages of the world alongside Lald and Chkhot to the far east. If anything, the sudden stop and finality of what was said suggested a command of sorts. Maybe it was an offer? She didn’t have much more time to think, the space she made was already suspicious.
She shook her head in descent again, eyes fixed on him for that reaction. There was none by the time she finished, so he must be expecting something more than a yes or a no. Yaro’s hands burned as she pushed on her robe, lifting a flap, careful not to even let shadows escape. She positioned the lump of cloth over where her mouth would have been on the mask, holding it there for a few breaths before letting it down. She wasn’t sure what she wanted from the gesture, maybe to show she couldn’t talk, maybe to portray some kind of secret. Breath waited outside her lips.
“XX Not a talker, that’s fine, no one gets sent her cuz they want to. Uhm, if you don't mind me asking, tell me where you got those horns. They look expensive, and I can't imagine why a rich fellow like yourself would visit this backwater town. Unless. Oh, so you’re with them.” He no longer wore that smile and that slight sing or whistle in his voice had been dragged down his throat, a dry hotness rising to take its place.
Yaro tensed. There was too much information, it would not be possible to parse anything of what he said. There were no questions, no more friendly gestures to afford her insight. He was still as a corpse, that familiar stillness that meant she had moments, maybe not that, to answer before they started accusing. Her mind raced, there were a few things she did pick up, a few common words between Thoos and Lald from their shared ancestral roots. Talk, mind, talk, village… horns. She had to guess, to respond before those around her would-
She’d taken too long.
“XXUh, hello, just cuz you’re high up doesn’t mean you gotta be rude. Unless… You wouldn’t happen to be from outside, would you?XX”
Yaro shook her head in dissent immediately. She would not have a chance again to strategize.
“XXI find that highly unlikely.XX'’ His voice was now dire, others had begun to stare and rise from their chairs. His aura smelled of rotten eggs and berries. Something in him was happy at this outcome. Of course the one who decided to interrogate the newcomer would not be friendly, but one looking for an excuse for a fight. Yaro would not give it to him, she had somewhere to be. He continued, “XXI’m willing to make a bet that that mask isn’t from around here. And under it, there would be a foreigner.XX'’
His smile returned.
Yaro found herself standing. Good, even if her mind was thinking of options of conversation, her muscles had that instinct to flee. She listened to them and made her way to the door, ignoring the whispered air loudly accusing behind her. She could not focus on the door, she had to make sure all angles around her were clear, that no one would be able to run up behind her. People continued to stand, the aura of the building itself seeming to be an upset stomach ready to expel all of its contents if the one rotten thing remained.
The feeling had been too overwhelming, her sense of danger not attuned enough to remind her to look ahead. The door swung open before she noticed the aura of cold calm. A large burly, hairy humi with a long thick tail became the new door. He spoke in assured breaths, “XXYou’re under arrest.XX”
Yaro did not respond, not even a shake of her head. There was no point, she knew what was happening all too well. She just had to get away now, the one option everyone left her with. She didn’t want to hurt him, but he surely would not hesitate to do so, so she braced herself, bending low and puffing the mask into the holder. Without looking up, she charged, shoulder connecting with his gut solidly. They came tumbling out of the building, crashing down the steps and landing on the lightly-wet ground. He gasped as Yaro lifted herself from him, cloak now also puffing to smoke as she spread her wings. The common cries of anguish came as she took to the sky, barreling out of the crevice with laboured and hefty flaps of her wings. This was practiced, but the lack of air and wind in the crevice meant her muscles worked twice as hard as normal. She’d be fine later, it was time to get back on the trail now.
She frowned, her mission would have to wait. This town, she should have known by that sickly sense she had upon entering, hated her enough to pursue. The thermals were close enough she did not worry about being able to get away. If or when they caught up to her, she’d give them a fight, they’d fall back and she’d throw herself into the wind to be carried chaotically for a while. As long as she had her ring, she’d never be lost for directions.
Those invisible chains, long ethereal limbs meant to pull her down, dragged at her ankles and arms. She only had to fight.
She broke from the limbs, wrenching them off each leg one at a time with her own. The flames dripped from her palms, long chains of her freedom waving like banners behind her. Their intense heat seared at her legs, biting where her scales weren’t.
She couldn’t feel them as she carried herself higher and higher, speed taking her and her senses. She looked behind, keen eyes noting three figures trailing her, also ascending. No, three was the amount of fliers, there were six after her, three tsohtsi with three humi on each of their backs, riding them like horses or taxis. She gritted her teeth painfully. They would send out double their forces for her this time? She’d have quite the fight on her hands. It would be best to avoid this.
With her whips snapping and creating no drag, she beat her wings hard, she would need to get to the thermals quickly. There was still so much to climb and they were gaining. The air and sky were open, not a cloud for such a long distance in every direction. She had no where to run, no where to hide. The fight felt inevitable.
Something thundered past her, shaking her and sending her tumbling to adjust and regain her lift. She looked behind again. They’d gained considerable distance, she could not make out the blue ribbons streaming from the humi and even a faint haze of their auras, spicy and focused.
Yaro felt something she dreaded, something she’d tried to avoid. It caused the strongest to buckle and make fools of themselves, great generals to fail disastrously and with hundreds and thousands of lives. She felt that thing of flutter rise in her chest. Panic. She nearly lost her ability to fly, paralysis threatening to become reality when Natrai’s words came to her once more. “It's usually best to just run away. But sometimes, you need to fight. And if you do, fight to the death.”
She would fight to the death, just not her own. She had unfinished business, she had to find this person so special to her that she would lose all memories of them just to find them. No one in Kald would stop her. Not even the armies waiting in Yon would, certainly not six backwater protectors from a sickly village.
She slowed, easing her pase and no longer ascending. She had some time to plan, moments, enough.
